Note: This vignette was written to commemorate those who were lost in the atrocities of September 11th, 2001 in the attack on New York's World Trade Centre.

 

They filed into the large chamber much like they did on every other special occasion. Except now there were no easy smiles, no pleasant chatter. Not this day. This was not a day for celebration. The group moved silently - somberly - some clasping hands, others with their arms wrapped comfortingly around another's shoulders.

Vincent stood at the large doors guarding the Great Hall's entrance, only the light of his torch illuminating the solemn figures that passed by. Ashen-faced tunnel dwellers and Helpers stepped into the Hall; some wept openly while others fought against their own rising emotions. Even now, after so much time had passed, the wound was still raw. So much hatred … so much pain … so much death. How could it not be?

Once the last member of their small, but tight, community had entered, Vincent sought out the face of the head of their group, their Father. The older man's face was weathered and weary; Vincent suspected he'd aged a year or more for every month that had passed since that awful day. Despondent eyes met his own and Father glanced at the antique timepiece that was a treasured Christmas gift from some of the children living Below. A few seconds passed and the older man nodded, giving his son the cue that it was time. Vincent extinguished the torch and the room was shrouded in darkness.

Eight forty-six in the morning on September Eleventh. Funny how a time can be forever etched in your memory - how you remember exactly where you were and what you were doing at such a precise moment in time. As they'd prepared for this day in the preceding weeks, that was the one thing that everyone recalled with perfect clarity. Where they had been … and the devastation that fell upon them just as the ashen remains of the twin towers fell to blanket the ground in lower Manhattan.

Vincent's eyes adjusted to the blackness and he moved to take his place among the mourners. Each person reached out and took the hand of the neighbor on either side of them, forming a human chain - a circle of love and hope. He moved to Father's side, taking the hand of the man who raised him from a babe into his own; then turned to his right.

Where she stood…the woman he loved above all else - the woman who declared her love with every breath, every touch, every kiss. His Catherine - the love he cherished even more now than before, if that were possible. He took her left hand gently into his right and placed it firmly to his heart, reminding her that it belonged to her. Always.

"Just as our world here Below began in darkness, the world Above was born again from darkness one year ago." Father's voice rang out clear and strong. "An act of immeasurable and unimaginable hostility was inflicted upon our friends Above - upon all of us - on that day. Taking away our often idyllic existence, our sense of security even amongst all the evils we've faced in our lives…tearing the very hearts, still beating, from our chests. Ripping loved ones from their families. And leaving those of us behind asking why."

The light of a single candle burst through and pushed the darkness back. It shone brightly upon Vincent's majestic face as he took a deep breath and spoke softly in his deep-toned voice. "As this candle provides a beacon for us in this dark place, those Above had a beacon of their own to cling to in the wake of that devastation. That beacon was Love. Love for family, love for a friend, love for a stranger. The nation came together - as we have now - to pray, to assist, to grieve. To show those that would wish to destroy us just what an unattainable task that would be. This country is not infallible - September Eleventh brought that truth home more than any other. But our Spirit is unwavering. And no amount of treachery or evil will ever be able to shatter that Spirit."

"We come together today to remember," Catherine recited reverently as Vincent squeezed her hand. "To remember and mourn those that were lost; friends and Helpers who are no longer with us, and those we did not know but whose selfless acts have forever enriched our lives. It is for them that we stand here, firm in our resolve that they will never be forgotten."

Mary stood to Father's left, her face awash with tears. Still, when she spoke, her voice was calm and steady. "Our lives were forever changed in a single instant. But what we take away from this terrible tragedy is our undying love - for each other…and our fellow man. Cherish each other. Cherish every moment and make each count. Time is a precious gift that should not be wasted. Let us ensure that it never is."

The simple ceremony concluded with hugs and kisses as people slowly began to filter back toward their living quarters. Catherine slipped into Vincent's welcoming arms and they stood there in silent reflection.

The previous evening both had traveled down to southern Manhattan, Catherine recognizing Vincent's need to visit the site. To pay his own respects to those that were lost. It was not an easy task to get Vincent near Ground Zero unnoticed. But one which both felt was too important not to accomplish. So they had stood, as they were standing now, far enough away to be unobtrusive, but close enough to see the place where two towers of steel once stood proudly. They'd bowed their heads in silent prayer and then made their way back to the tunnels. To their family.

Catherine looked up into those brilliant blue eyes and whispered softly as they made their way toward the doors, Vincent holding onto the only source of light in the expansive room. "As dark as this room is, Vincent, that one tiny candle burned so brightly that no other was needed."

"It was not only the candle that illuminated this room, Catherine. It was Love. Love burns brighter than any candle ever could." He hugged her tightly and led her back home.

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